


Call Me Maybe

by aromantic-eight (rbmifan), patrexes



Series: OT3.5 [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Disabled Character, Double Penetration, Light Bondage, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Painful Sex, Past Sexual Abuse, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon, Sex Toys, Threesome - M/M/M, You Will Pry James And Ozpin's Disabilities Out Of My Cold Dead Hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 14:46:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17388341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rbmifan/pseuds/aromantic-eight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/patrexes/pseuds/patrexes
Summary: Fuck, how long had it been since they’d all been in the same room? 5 months? Their whole… thing,menahg uh twah, or whatever the fuck Oz called it with the barest hint of his host’s old Argive accent, was so new Qrow felt weirdmissingit, but here he was, imagining all three of them tangled together on the bedbug-free bed.





	Call Me Maybe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noahfronsenburg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noahfronsenburg/gifts).



> Yes, this is really an eleven thousand word PWP. We know.
> 
> This is set about a decade before volume 1. Ozpin has a psychosomatic limp associated with severe chronic pain, inherited from Ozma. James’ prosthetics are courtesy of life in a cyberpunk country with a degenerative neuromuscular disorder. The past abuse tag is used because the characters are navigating their sex life with past trauma in mind; there are no flashbacks, panic attacks, or conversations about any details. 
> 
> We almost took a title from the song "Departures" by queer folk singer Grace Petrie. [Go listen to it anyway](https://gracepetrie.bandcamp.com/track/departures), it's cute.

_You out of that meeting yet?_

Qrow swiped the text screen aside and checked his inbox for updates from any of his contacts, and then pulled up the centralized feed of security camera footage a ‘trusted agent’ of James’ had given him access to shortly after arrival. Working in Solitas was kind of… surreal, now Ironwood was in the know and Qrow had access to the whole damn kingdom of Atlas’ uncomfortably comprehensive surveillance network. It had its high points, but honestly, Qrow was a little more comfortable with Ozpin’s old-fashionedness. At least you could take a spy out for drinks, you know?

Nothing in the inbox but spam Qrow swore he shouldn’t be getting to his top-secret CCTmail account, and nothing suspicious—or, at least, nothing suspicious in the _danger to Remnant at large_ way—seemed to be going down in the city, and thank gods for it. He really, really didn’t want to postpone tonight.

 _On the way. T-5min,_ came a banner notification, obviously from James despite being sent from Ozpin’s scroll. And knowing him, it’d be just about as close to the second as human error would allow; Qrow wasn’t sure if the man had an atomic clock ticking away in his chest where there was supposed to be a heart, or if his punctuality was solely habitual. Either way, he was dependable.

Given a timeline, Qrow opened the single drawer in the scratched-up steel nightstand beside the bed and fished out the Do Not Disturb sign to hang on the doorknob, before locking the door and angling the chair from the desk under the knob to boot; it would be _just_ his luck for a maid to miss the sign, after all. This finished, he dragged his fingers through his hair and loosened his shirttails before flopping back on the bed, grateful for his earlier decision to splurge on the room. He couldn’t even feel the bedsprings. He’d also been promised it was _bedbug free or your lien back_ , which was a win-win even with his semblance.

Just a few minutes now. Qrow chuckled at the image of Ironwood’s face, showing up to this, what, 2-star inn, when his own fancy-schmancy apartment was an hour away at most. Shame he was in Vale with Ozpin.

Fuck, how long had it been since they’d all been in the same room? 5 months? Their whole… thing, _menahg uh twah_ , or whatever the fuck Oz called it with the barest hint of his host’s old Argive accent, was so new Qrow felt weird _missing_ it, but here he was, imagining all three of them tangled together on the bedbug-free bed.

He huffed a laugh at his own expense. He was getting sentimental in his old age.

His scroll buzzed again, a call coming through, this time from Ironwood’s own scroll. Qrow swiped into it, coming face-to-face, or, well, face-to-eye with him.

“The video quality of CCT calls leaves a lot to be desired,” said James.

“Well, hello to you too, handsome. You know I don’t actually need to see your dick in 1080p, right?”

Ironwood pulled back far enough Qrow could actually see the frown on his face. “You _do_ need to be able to _see_ ,” he responded, almost petulantly. Qrow loved how easy he was to rile up. In any case, he seemed a little more satisfied with whatever he’d been trying to do with the camera’s settings, because instead of another view of all the capillaries in his eyeball, Qrow got a wide view over his shoulder into the bedroom in Ozpin’s apartment, James keeping his eyes on something in the bottom corner of the screen as he shifted the angle of the scroll where it must have been perched on one of the shelves of Oz’s bookcase.

Behind him, Ozpin was half-visible and half-dressed, leaning his cane against the bedframe for a second and hefting a smallish case covered in ornate brass filigree onto the mattress. Qrow grinned—since he was only really here for the show, he’d let the other two decide on their own what tonight was gonna look like, and he didn't actually know what they got up to when it was just them. They’d had a thing back when _they_ were at Beacon together, twenty damn years ago, and Qrow wouldn’t have been all that surprised if their sex life was as ‘old married couple’ in tone as their bickering was. But _that_ was the toy box, and judging by the angle James’ scroll had ended up at…

“No bed, huh?” Qrow said wryly. “Unless this is supposed to be some new, audio only experience. I gotta say, Jimmy, I didn’t peg you for _shy._ ”

He did, actually. James might be a smooth operator in front of a crowd or a politician, but only when he had at least 95% of his body covered. Particularly the metal bits. Atlesians, right?

James opened his mouth to respond to that and then paused, looking uncertain. Then there was an amused laugh from behind him and Ozpin said, “It wasn’t an innuendo. Subtlety is not one of Qrow’s strong suits, as you well know.” Ozpin’s face appeared over James’ shoulder, and gave Qrow a soft smile that was _entirely_ Ozma.

His lips started twitching up into a return smile entirely of their own volition, and he ruthlessly quelled it. He had an image to maintain, and James was here.

It wasn't like Qrow didn't like Ozma's _host_ —hell, he'd be kind of screwed if he _didn't_ , considering how eerily similar Ozma and Aspin were, and how much harder it had gotten even in the last couple years for Qrow to tell at a glance who was running the show—but it wasn't the _same_ , dumb as that sounded.

Aspin was friendly, easy to talk to for all that Qrow’d gotten more out of _James_ about Aspin’s life in the last two years than he ever had from the man himself, and he had a brand of encouragement so subtle half the time you didn’t even realize he was doing it except for the fact it was working. But there was always this faint undercurrent of _something_ , not disapproval really, but like Aspin always thought he should be _better_. It sometimes made the fourteen years Aspin had on him seem like a wider gulf than however many uncounted centuries lay between him and Ozma.

Ozma was rough around the edges in a way Aspin wasn’t, and he swore on his belief in every individual’s potential like it was something he had to remind _himself_ of. He told Qrow at a crappy little dive once that Qrow reminded him of himself, and when Qrow had laughed he’d given him that exact same smile, sincerity in every line of his face. It was a good smile.

“It’s very good to see you again, Qrow,” Oz said. “Thank you for making time.”

Qrow rolled his eyes fondly, and the smile he’d been fighting crept back up. “Yeah, you’re really dragging me away from some _thrilling_ stuff. There’s a couple kids smoking blunts down the block, y’know. Might throw the whole kingdom into chaos if we don’t keep an eye on ‘em. It’s a blast.”

Oz laughed and leaned into James’ shoulder, and probably thought Qrow didn’t catch the annoyingly sincere undercurrent to his “Thank you for your diligence as well. I know I ask a great deal of you—perhaps more than I should—and yet you have always obliged.”

“All right, lovebirds. If we could get started tonight...” James looked pointedly back at the box still sitting pretty on the bed that was now out of frame entirely, his metal hand reaching up to tug lightly on Oz’s hair.

Oz let out a sigh and leaned into the touch, his expression softening. “My apologies,” he murmured.

Qrow gave James a mock-glare when he glanced back at the scroll. “Hey, fuck you, Jimmy, what’d I say about bird jokes?”

James gave a long-suffering sigh. “That wasn’t a bird joke.”

“ _Bullshit_. Put a twenty in the jar.” Qrow was grinning, and he figured there was a small chance he might actually get that twenty. James was _loaded_ , it wasn’t like he’d miss it.

“Well,” Oz said. He’d pulled back from James to pluck at his dress uniform. “First of all, you have entirely too many layers on right now. You definitely won’t be able to get any of this off once on the chair.”

James touched his coat, frowning slightly. “It shouldn’t get in the way of anything. Really, it’s not like I don’t have access.” He glanced down at his pants as if to make his point. “We’ve managed it before.”

“We _have,_ ” Oz allowed, and his hand trailed down the front of his uniform and off the camera screen, which was really unfortunate because James’ expression was a goddamn _treasure_. “But I would certainly prefer you with fewer clothes.”

James was a master of clothed sex: Qrow thought back on their frequent sexual encounters in military closets, and hallways, and James’ office. But this wasn’t a few stolen moments just a few feet from prying eyes, and not everything had to be done with _maximum efficiency_.

“ _C’mon_ Jimmy,” he goaded, “let him have this. It’s not a quickie in the bathroom.”

James frowned at Qrow, and then sighed again. “Of course. Because _Ozpin_ asked,” he clarified, because that was the game, and then there was a quiet zip noise and the sound of clothes rustling, and they really needed to get farther from the camera, like, yesterday.

“Nice view,” said Qrow, loudly and pointedly. “I assume. Since I can’t actually see shit.”

James glanced back at him as if he’d forgotten somehow that Qrow was attending via video conference, and couldn’t actually change his perspective. He hastily moved back, hopping slightly as he did—pulling off his socks, it looked like—and then Qrow _did_ have a very nice view of James’ cock, soft and slender, nestled in wiry black hair as meticulously tended to as the hair on his head. James pulled off his single white glove, then shrugged off his coat and shirt in the same movement, tossing them aside as he moved towards the bed. Oz glanced back at the scroll, giving Qrow a small smile as he undid his own pants, pushing them down with one hand as he balanced with his cane in the other. Must have been a long day, if he needed the cane that bad.

As nice an image as Oz undressing was, it was also familiar, and Qrow found his attention was drawn to James rummaging around inside the toy box; when _Qrow_ fucked James, they hardly used toys at all, and nothing more interesting than a prostate massager. But there was a lot of stuff in that fancy old box, crap they hadn’t even made in over a century, even, and Qrow had no clue where the night might be going. James took out a pair of black leather cuffs, hooking them over two fingers before reaching in again. Then he paused, and with a glance first at Oz and then at Qrow, instead threw the cuffs back in and picked the whole damn box up. He put it up on his shoulder, the metal one, and held it steady as he used his other had to slide the coaster off the edge of the side table and put it on the shelf underneath it, where a few bottles of expensive liquor sat, then picked up the table lamp and lifted it out of the way as he traded it for the box of sex toys. It barely fit, but it did, and the old green-glassed banker’s lamp was moved to the floor.

Well, then. They were keeping their options open, apparently. Nice.

Even nicer was Oz coming up behind James just as he’d gotten the box positioned just so, kissing at his neck as his free hand reached around James’ body, starting low on the side of his left thigh, where skin met the cup of his prosthetic leg. His hand slid up to James’ hip, upwards and inwards out of Qrow’s sight, but clearly far more interested in the exposed skin of his chest than in his dick. James laughed breathlessly, turning half towards Oz (and, by extension, the scroll, offering Qrow a better view) and stealing his cane out from underneath him.

Oz stumbled, wincing as he transferred his weight to his good leg while James leaned the stolen cane against the wall, plucking the set of cuffs back out of the box of toys as he turned back to Oz. “You won’t be needing that,” he said, voice low, and caught Oz’s mouth with his own. Oz’s newly free hand came up under James’ arm and hooked around his shoulder; knees bent and hanging off James’ frame, he was deceptively small. As they kissed, James brought the cuffs forward, and with his other hand caught Oz’s free hand at the wrist.

As he fastened the cuff, he bit at Oz’s lower lip and glanced towards Qrow on the scroll, and Oz, a soft moan in his throat, followed his gaze. Qrow wasn’t sure how well they could see him on the tiny little screen, or how compelling the sight of Qrow’s face was, no matter how blown his pupils probably were. Hell, he hadn’t even stripped yet; if they even _could_ see anything else, it’s not like it’d be sexy.

James peeled Oz’s fingers off his shoulder blade, and then off his lower arm when Oz clutched for him again, firmly maneuvering both hands behind Oz’s back to expertly fasten the second leather cuff. The whole time, he never broke the kiss. Shit. He wasn’t half bad, huh? Color Qrow with some higher standards the next time they fucked, that’s for damn sure.

Oz let his eyes flutter closed as James caught his metal hand under his armpit, letting Oz take some weight off his leg. The other hand roamed Oz’s body, running up his side and traveling up his back to scrape his nails down Oz’s spine. Oz gasped into his mouth, bound hands clenching uselessly. Not for the first time, Qrow wondered if his sensitivity was a constant, something borne of centuries of touch starvation, or just courtesy of the body he wore.

In any case, Qrow wasn’t about to complain. Oz telegraphed his pleasure like nothing else in his life, and it was fucking hot. Qrow slouched back on the bed and palmed himself through his pants with his free hand as Oz melted into James. James groaned audibly at the contact the movement caused, their hips slotting together. The hand he wasn’t using to hold Oz up slipped down from his waist to the space between the two of them—that was Jimmy, always had to _touch_ —and Oz went still. His tension didn’t go unnoticed; James checked himself, bringing his hand around instead to cup Oz’s ass and giving him a tender, altogether chaste peck on the lips. Oz relaxed into him again, catching James’ lower lip with his teeth as James pulled back, but James stayed stiff like he was at attention, responding still, but… hesitantly, now, like some soldier back from the war, unsure if he was still wanted.

 _Jimmy, you fucking nerd_ , Qrow thought. He rolled his eyes. “You’re not gonna _break_ him, old man. Bite him! He likes that.” The _you should know that_ hung unspoken on the air, which was kinder than James deserved. He _had_ said as much, the first time the three of them all fucked, as if Qrow had any reason to be familiar with Oz’s feelings on _masturbation sleeves_ , of all things. James glared at him, but Oz underscored Qrow’s point for him by surging forward and biting _James._  Qrow smirked.

Qrow 1; James 0. Not a great start, Jimmy.

As if he could hear that, James broke off the kiss altogether. “Shut up,” he directed to his scroll, and then took two steps backward, letting himself fall back into the half-upholstered armchair. He reached out to Oz, hand in position to get in behind his knee to help him up—lap sex, huh? With a king sized bed three steps away? Sure, _that_ made sense, but whatever made them happy.

Oz didn’t seem to be having it, though. His lip quirked in that enigmatic smile of his, and he turned his head to look right at Qrow as he sunk smoothly into a kneel between James’ legs, his bound hands laying half-curled atop the soles of his bare feet. He looked back up at James, hopefulness written across his features like there was a snowball’s chance in hell this wouldn’t go his way. Oz knew _exactly_ how good he looked sucking dick.

James sighed fondly. “Oh, all right,” he conceded, and obligingly held the base of his cock. Only half hard, Oz could fit all of him in his mouth without trouble; nose pressed up against James’ knuckles, his cheeks hollowed out, eyes fluttering closed as James let his other hand rest in his hair. James visibly filled out as Oz pulled back to play at the head of his cock, foreskin catching on his teeth. When Oz went back down, there was almost an inch of skin between his lips and James’ fingers. _Damn_.

Qrow dropped his scroll beside him, keeping an eye on it as he hiked his hips up and shoved his pants and boxers down his legs in one motion. He didn’t have lube, of course, because that would have been, you know, _smart_ —not like they hadn’t been looking forward to this event for weeks or anything!—but there’d been a little single-use bottle of body lotion in the adjoining bathroom. He was starkly ( _hah_ ) reminded of being seventeen again, amateur porn on his scroll and moisturizing lotion stolen out of Summer’s toiletries bag. At least this shit was unscented. He squeezed some out on his palm and settled back against the headboard, plucking his scroll back up with his left hand.

Oz had settled into a rhythm by now, and behind his back he’d caught his thumbs between his fingers and was pressing them white; from arousal or effort, Qrow couldn’t say. James was looking right at the scroll, and quirked a smile as Qrow came back into view. “Comfortable?” he asked.

Yeah, actually. He should stay places with decent mattresses more often. “Don’t you got more important things to be concentrating on right now?” he threw back, a lotion-covered gesture towards the man between James’ legs for punctuation.

An eyebrow quirked judgmentally, but Ironwood kept his mouth shut about Qrow’s choice in lube. Instead, he glanced down. “What,” he said dispassionately, “Ozpin?” The hand in Oz’s hair slid to the back of his head and _fisted_ , holding Oz down on his cock. Oz bucked instinctively under him for half a moment, shoulders turning in and his whole back curving out before he settled, holding himself still and almost expectant. “He’s hardly going anywhere.”

All right, Qrow 1; James 1. Fair’s fair. _Fuck_.

James released Oz and he came up gasping. A long look up at James as he caught his breath, and then he glanced over to Qrow, expression soft and eyes all pupil. He turned his head as he curled back over James’ cock, and instead of taking it into his mouth, he licked a long stripe up its length, tongue circling the head before slipping back down to mouth at the base of his cock.

James pulled his hand away—not like he needed to support his dick when it was laying across Oz’s face, dribbling pre-come into Oz’s carefully filled-in eyebrow—and reached into the box of toys beside him. “I assume you have suggestions,” he said neutrally, or as neutrally as he could muster with Oz suddenly swallowing him down.

“You got a belt or something in there?” Qrow asked. Oz choking around a dick, that was an image he’d never pass up.

James looked at him like he’d grown a third head; Qrow spared a glance down, and then at the little image of himself in the corner of the scroll’s screen, just to double-check. “I’m not going to _hit him_ while I’m _in his mouth_ ,” James said.

Qrow burst out laughing. “Not what I—oh, never mind, Jimmy. _Gods_ , your _face_.” That was the mood shot for a good couple minutes, but he’d call it worth it for Ironwood’s discontented little scowl alone. Poor Jimmy doesn’t know what the joke is. “Anyway,” he said, pumping his dick absentmindedly, “might help if you actually told me what's happening tonight? What _do_ you two do when I’m not around to make things fun?” He paused. “I assume you have sleeves,” he added, just to prove he remembered that detail.

James shook his head, not looking up as he sifted through the box. “Not tonight. Ozpin isn’t in the mood.” Qrow reconsidered the limp; maybe it hadn’t been a long day, just a bad one. James picked something up, but discarded it without even lifting it to the scroll. “We thought we’d go for completely hands-off.”

“See, I knew you'd admit it was hot.”

“I'm not admitting anything, I’m _trying_ it.” He was clearly shooting for irritably short, but the effect was ruined by his voice catching as Oz started to laugh around his dick. Qrow would count that as another point for himself, thank you. James scowled, and lifted several toys to show Qrow in quick succession, making them all little more than blurs of movement that Qrow could only assume were _probably_ sex toys. Slow _down_ , Jimmy, gods. Not everyone could track like a sniper. “Thoughts?” he asked.

Qrow threw him a look. He was actually supposed to be able to tell what any of those _were_? “Uh, that you’re in one _hell_ of a rush.”

James _hmph_ ed, digging through the box again. “None of them were worth the time, anyway,” he said, then pulled out another toy, placing it carefully between the box and the edge of the table. Qrow felt another smile tug across his face; the slender dildo was easily recognizable for the yellow Lichtenberg figures all along its ridged length. It was called the Lightning Rod, if Qrow remembered correctly, and three guesses what kind of dust cartridge the slot in its flared base took.

James had better taste in toys than Qrow’d given him credit for, clearly. Qrow added that to the growing list of things to hold him to when he got back to Atlas. “There any dust in that box?” He leaned forward as if he could somehow peer in.

“Hmm.” James shifted more of the contents. “There was some left the last time…”

Oz pulled off of him, but stayed close, so the head of James’ cock tapped his lips as he offered a softly apologetic, “I’m afraid I used the last cartridge two weeks ago and haven’t had the chance to restock.” He paused, then almost reluctantly added, “I have some in the kitchen that could be repurposed, but—”

James made a face that eloquently conveyed _exactly_ how much he wanted to move from his current position. “I don’t think so,” he said. Oz hummed in agreement and leaned into James’ thigh.

“Put it down for next time,” Qrow decided, feeling a little thrill at the fact a ‘next time’ was happening.

James put the dildo back, the thoughtful look he got when he’d found a problem to solve on his face. “In that case,” he said, more to himself than anyone else, “—oh, I know…” And then he pulled out this frankly _horrifying_ contraption of gears and curving bars, with a huge-ass, ugly handle made out of what must have been brass. Gods, _that_ thing?

“You’re joking,” Qrow said flatly. He _had_ to be, right? Qrow wasn’t even sure if it was a toy or some ancient instrument of torture, and while that wasn’t necessarily a _bad_ image… “Please tell me you’re joking.”

James shot him a surprised glance. “Why would I be joking? I like it.”

“What even _is_ it?”

James settled the toy on his lap, then ran a hand through Oz’s hair. “If you could continue.” Because he was a fucking gentleman even when he had his boyfriend tied up at his feet. Oz leaned into the touch, eyes closing briefly, and carefully shifted to take him back into his mouth. Then James took his hand back and started fiddling with the complicated gears in a way that _looked_ like he knew what he was doing. Qrow eyed it skeptically. “It’s a vibrator,” he told Qrow. A _what?_ _That?_

“It looks like it belongs in a museum.”

“There’s a similar one on display in the Atlas Museum, actually.” So, that basically made Qrow’s point for him, right? “They were very popular before dust-powered vibrators became common, but nowadays it’s almost impossible to find one. They really are an ingenious design, though, and this one is particularly nice. Watch.” And then he located what was apparently some kind of lever and started winding it up. Qrow waited, curious. And waited. And waited. Qrow spared a thought for whatever old incarnation of Oz's this thing must have belonged to; apparently ancient people often died of old age before they got to use their own damn sex toys. Qrow started watching Oz instead, which was much more interesting. It wasn’t like he’d miss it whenever James finished up there—he was pretty sure the people three houses over could hear that thing wind.

James pressed a button on the side of the handle, and the toy started to rattle, vibrating rapidly. Then he pressed another button, and the loops of gears extending away from the handle began to shift and turn, spinning outwards in a way that gradually widened the circumference like a godsdamn speculum. Okay, Qrow was willing to concede that maybe the toy had potential. Not enough to give James the point. Yet.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a nerd, Jimmy?”

“Only you, Qrow.” He spun the gears back to their starting position, and then reached for the small bottle of lube they kept in the box.

“See, you say that—” Qrow never got to finish that sentence because suddenly the hand he’d been using to jack himself through all this was covered in come, and _shit_ , he hadn’t even noticed he was close. Fuck. He pulled his hand away and reached for the tissues beside the bed, because he was not planning on being sticky when the night hadn’t even really _started_ yet. He was in the middle of wiping himself off when he heard a laugh from his scroll, and glanced over to see James looking toward him with a fucking _delighted_ expression on his face. “Nice _stamina_ , Qrow.”

Fuck Jimmy. “Yeah, well, some of us don’t have _iron wood_.”

James stared at him, nonplussed, but Oz suddenly pulled off of him and started laughing so hard he had to lean on James’ thigh to stay upright, and honestly Qrow was tempted to give himself a point just for that.

“It’s not that funny,” James told Oz.

Oz was still snickering. He opened his mouth to try and respond three times, and started hiccuping on the second try, before giving up and just burying his head in James’ thigh, laughing and hiccuping.

James covered his mouth with his hand, which did absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he was smiling. He set the wind-up dildo aside as Oz eventually got his breathing under control again and said, “This seems like as good at time as any to move things forward. How are you for getting up again?”

“Ah,” said Oz. “Should be fine, I think.” James gave him a _look_ , and Oz corrected himself. “I imagine it will be painful, but a pain I am willing to bear given the circumstances.” Which was over-poetic and also completely unrepentant, which was… very Oz, He’d apologize for damn near everything except getting _himself_ hurt.

James leaned forward and wrapped a hand around Oz’s upper arm to help haul him up. Oz winced, hissing through his teeth as he tried to get his good leg under him, hands flexing uselessly behind his back as he instinctively tried to pull his arms around. Qrow busied himself with wiping up the last of his come and tossing the soaked tissue across the motel room to the trash. Most of it went in. He’d feel worse about it if he thought the room had actually been cleaned before he checked in.

Over the scroll he heard Oz say, breathlessly, “Stop, stop,” and glanced over to see him mostly on his feet, with James holding onto his upper arms and an anxious expression on his face. “This is ridiculous,” he said, half to himself, and then he got both legs under him and pushed himself the rest of the way up onto the chair, sprawling across James’ chest and shoulder. He stayed there for a long moment, gasping and shaking slightly, while James hands hovered uncertainly around him. “There,” he said, when he’d gotten his breath back, faintly satisfied. “That wasn’t so hard.”

“Ozpin, you didn’t have to… do that.” James looked a little bit like Oz had kicked his puppy.

“Perhaps not, but you have to admit this was much faster. Now, please, help me get into position.”

James looked unconvinced. “Are you sure—”

“ _Yes_ , James,” Oz said firmly.

A chastised look crossed James’ features, then he helped arrange Oz in a more appropriate position straddling him, and while James had all but lost his erection in the process of changing positions, Qrow noticed Oz—half-hard since James held him on his cock—hadn’t flagged. He wasn’t sure if Oz got off on pain or if it just didn’t bother him, though he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t dying to know.

Seven years into a relationship, you’d think he’d have _asked_ at some point, but—he didn’t even know what his excuse was. It was _Oz_ , you know?

The sound of a plastic cap popping open dragged Qrow back out of his thoughts; James had retrieved the bottle of lube, and poured a generous amount onto the fingers of his non-metal hand. Oz watched him with interest, shifting forward obligingly at a prompting tug from James, and as James snaked his other hand between his legs, Oz snuck a glance over his shoulder to Qrow.

Qrow had a _fantastic_ view of his ass like this; hard as it was to admit, Jimmy’s anal retentiveness had been pretty insightful. James circled the rim with a finger, first smearing lube and then again—judging by Oz’s inhale—to scrape his fingernail across the sensitive skin, before slowly pressing in. Oz’s breath caught as it did, tensing first, then relaxing with a long exhale. James slipped his other hand under Oz’s arm and ran the smooth pads of his titanium fingers down his back, kissing him at the junction of his neck and shoulder, then slowly began to pump his finger in and out. James was _always_ like that. Qrow swore that, if you let him go at his own pace, he’d spend an hour just fucking you on his fingers before he’d even consider sticking his dick in there. Like, shit, didn’t it feel _tedious_?

Oz, however, was gifted with the patience of immortality, which was the only way you could cope with that pace, in Qrow’s opinion. He’d curled in at James’ shoulder, head caught under his chin so Qrow could see his face in profile, and he seemed to be making himself comfortable. Qrow could hear his slow, even breaths in the hush that had descended, the sort of quiet that made you wonder if you should really break it, or if something might be lost if you did.

James didn’t seem to share the—admittedly sappy—thought. “I know you’re sitting there criticizing me,” he directed conversationally towards his scroll. “Who’s in a rush now?”

“I didn’t say anything!” Qrow protested. “I’m _fine_! It’s your and Oz’s show. I’m sure paint drying is also very exciting.”

James just smiled at him, apparently in too good a mood to rise to the bait. He brought his metal hand up to the back of Oz’s neck as he buried his finger inside of him, and whether it was a crook of James’ finger or his firm hold on Oz’s neck or a combination of the two, Oz gave a tiny gasp, jerking in his grip.“Paint—" oh, there it was, bait risen to “—doesn’t twitch and gasp around you. I can see and feel him take everything I’m giving him, like this. That’s plenty exciting.” He sounded entirely sincere about it, too.

Qrow eyed Oz consideringly. It _was_ probably a good position for that. And it _was_ Oz. If spending an hour watching every change in a person’s face could ever be exciting, it’d be Oz’s face, he allowed. Still, who had the _time_? Qrow made a dismissive noise. “Whatever makes you happy, Jimmy. Just don’t you ever dare try and pull it with me.”

James smirked and pulled his finger out, only to apply more lube and just… put the same finger back in, by itself, even though Oz _had_ to be ready for more by now, even by James’ standards. They locked eyes, and James’ stare dared him to comment. Qrow leaned back instead, sending an exploratory hand below deck with a wince; he wasn’t a teenager anymore, and he sure as hell didn’t have the recovery time of one, so maybe it was just as well James was apparently planning to milk this for all it was worth.

He fucked Oz on one finger until Oz started shifting restlessly on his shoulder, bound hands meaning there was no way for him to control the pace _and_ keep weight off his bad leg. He had to take precisely as much—or as little—as James was willing to give him. “I hate to get in the way of a challenge with Qrow,” he told James quietly, “but I hope you don’t plan on trying to finish tonight with just that finger.”

James threw Qrow a glance and hummed, considering.

“Oh, just give him another finger already,” Qrow said. “You’ve got plenty.” An image of James sticking his whole hand in there flashed into Qrow’s head, and, fuck, _that_ was a kind of fingerfucking he could definitely get behind.

“You’re not in charge here, Qrow,” James said, but a few seconds later he added the second finger, eliciting a soft noise and softer kiss to the edge of his jaw from Oz.

“Says you.”

“Says me,” James agreed magnanimously, fucking Oz open on his fingers. He went slow, of course, watching Qrow the whole time and making a _show_ of it—and sure, it was _good_ , and Qrow wasn’t complaining about the cinematography, that’s for damn sure, but the pacing could have used some work. Occasionally, he’d pause, and Qrow wasn’t sure if it was to see if Qrow would say anything, or to feel Oz, who’d been getting progressively more responsive to James’ movements, squirm in protest. Maybe both.

Qrow refused to give him anything. Instead, he waited until James deigned to give Oz the whole length of his fingers and then, because he hadn’t stopped thinking about it, asked casually: “You ever fist him before?”

James froze, staring at Qrow. He looked consideringly down at Oz and the space between their bodies, no doubt on the heel of his own palm pressed up against Oz’s balls. He started to move his hand again, teeth worrying at his lower lip, and he was so clearly imagining putting his whole hand inside of Oz, Qrow almost gave himself another point on the spot. Then, in to the second knuckle, he parted his fingers, and Qrow could see _inside of Oz_. “No, actually,” said James. Oz’s breath caught and then kept coming fast and uneven, and he shuddered in James’ lap. His eyes—already closed—squeezed shut hard, wrinkling his nose. James’ ran his other hand gently down Oz’s back, ducking his chin to look at Oz’s face as he asked, “Where are you right now?”

Oz drew in a ragged breath, opening his eyes to meet James’. “I’d like to kiss you.” Gods, what a sap.

It got a fond smile playing around James’ lips, but he didn’t budge. “Answer the question.”

“James," Oz whined.

Where _was_ he. Qrow snickered. “I mean, that’s an answer.”

James actually _rolled his eyes_ at him, like he was twelve years old rather than forty-two and starting to go gray, but he let his metal hand drift up to Oz’s neck and met his lips. Oz hummed into his mouth contentedly, eyes drifting closed again as he parted his lips to let James in—and that was _always_ a pleasant image, but Qrow felt safe in saying it was only improved by James being in him elsewhere at the same time.

He pretty clearly wasn’t the only one thinking so, either. James’ cock twitched, hardening again as the tempo of his fingers quickened to something almost bearable. More than, really, from the way Oz gasped into his mouth as he spread his fingers again.

James broke the kiss. “I think that’s enough fingers for tonight,” he said, breath coming a little short. Yeah, that was _definitely_ a point for Qrow.

He slipped his fingers out of Oz and reached for the old clockwork vibrator he’d set aside, slicking it with lube fast enough he was _almost_ rushing. Qrow leaned forward in interest as he brought the toy down between the two of them. Oz followed the movement too, unthinking, until James brought the toy between his legs; his gaze jerked back up and he looked towards the scroll as James angled the curved handle of the vibrator so it would stand up between his thighs. His hands now free, he brought them up to Oz’s hips to maneuver him downwards. Qrow could see James’ cock now sitting proudly between Oz’s legs, and had a feeling James was getting a _very_ nice image from his angle. He brought his gaze back up to find Oz staring straight back at him, his face impossibly fond, and Qrow wondered yet again how he’d managed to get this man to _love_ him like this. He was grinning back before he’d even decided to do so, and he knew he must look like a lovestruck fool but he didn’t even care right now.

It’d distract Oz from being tempted to look down, at least. He did always say how much he liked seeing Qrow happy, and he was pretty sure this was the happiest he’d been in the last two weeks.

“What’d I ever do to deserve you?” he blurted out, and then immediately wanted to sink into the mattress because, really? _James_ could hear.

James didn’t comment on the slip, though, not even glancing toward the scroll as he did whatever he was doing down there. Oz’s smile dimmed, and he said, “Does anyone know, with love?”

Fuck, Oz. "I was going for _sappy_ there, not the miserable philosopher angle."

Oz laughed. "My apologies." He might have continued, except just then a rickety buzz filled the air and what came out instead was just “ _Oh._ ” He clenched around the toy, mouth half-open and breath coming in small, shuddering pants. “It’s _cold_ ,” he told James, like this was news or something.

“It’ll warm up,” said James, voice full of amusement, and he might have given himself a good view, but _Qrow_ got the sight of Oz’s bound hands curling and uncurling uselessly behind his back all to himself.

“ _Qrow_ ,” Oz said plaintively, and James just _laughed._

“What do you expect _me_ to do?”

“I—” he started, then stopped. “You—” It was a rare day when Ozpin couldn’t think of what to say, and it wasn’t even because he’d been fucked speechless. Yet. He felt his cock twitch— _finally_.

Oz was taking shaky breaths that hissed on the inhale, face slightly flushed, and he kept straining to touch the vibrator like he might be able to jostle it into a better angle if he could only just _reach_. He was a fucking picture like this. Pun intended. "Gods, you're pretty like this," Qrow said wonderingly.

“Please don’t,” Oz said tightly. Right, fuck. Keep it to yourself next time, dumbass.

“Sorry, Oz. You're _smoking hot_ like this.”

Oz curled into James and _giggled_ , but any other response was interrupted as James reached underneath Oz and the horrible whirring of the vibrator changed its pitch. Oz made a choked sound, eyes wide, and Qrow popped the lid of the lotion bottle again; then he paused, remembering what had happened last time. Maybe he’d be better off waiting until James actually put his dick in Oz before using up the rest of this. And knowing Jimmy, _that_ could be a half hour from now.

Fucking Jimmy.

The vibrator did the work of a third and fourth finger, working Oz open with a mechanical efficiency that had him rocking back slightly into the intrusion, his eyes closed and focused save for the faint wince that contorted his features every time he pushed up too far. It didn’t stop him from moving, though, right up until the old wind-up dildo clicked to a stop.

“Shitty battery life on that thing, huh?” Qrow said to James.

“Unfortunately,” James sighed, like Qrow hadn't been blatantly mocking his weird, crappy taste in toys. “I don’t suppose…” he started, moving his hand suspiciously towards the toy box.

“Don’t you dare,” said Qrow, at the same moment Oz whined, “ _Please_.”

Traitor. James’ eyes flickered between the two of them, his face pensive, before he let out a heavy breath. “All right, Ozpin, up you go,” he said, cupping the backs of Oz’s thighs to lift him off the toy. Oz made a squeaky, high-pitched sort of whine in the back of his throat at the loss, desperate and _adorable_. Qrow watched with bated breath as James pulled the clunky old vibrator out from between his legs, hesitating before setting it down on the floor beside the chair. He’d _totally_ just remembered he’d forgotten to plan for clean-up.

_Now make the right choice, Jimmy._

He grabbed the bottle of lube off the side table, not even glancing at the toy box. _Good_ man. He popped the cap open with his thumbnail as he angled his chin up for Oz to give him a peck on the lips, the motion so clearly _routine_ that Qrow could perfectly envision their twenty year old selves in this same position, armchair swapped for a creaky twin bed in their dorm room. James reached between the two of them with a lube-slick hand, deepening their kiss as he stroked himself to full hardness, his hand angled so he wouldn’t bump Oz’s cock as he did.

“I need you a little closer,” he breathed into Oz’s mouth, voice low, and then effortlessly lifted him up half off his lap with his prosthetic arm, which was, as always, sexy but _definitely_ cheating. He slid down in his seat, lining himself up with his other hand before slowly starting to lower Oz down onto him. Qrow could tell exactly when the tip made it past his rim because Oz’s breath audibly caught in his throat.

Qrow checked the time. He’d love to get some comparisons to other times James and Oz had fucked, see how much more quickly they were moving along than usual. And it was _definitely_ more quickly than usual. Only one toy before the main event? He gave himself a point for it.

Oz was biting his lip now, the same look of concentration on his face he got when he was peering down at a dozen sets of initials at the beginning of the year, trying to arrange them in some order that was at least arguably color-adjacent. It was a little bit funny since James was doing all of the work here, but it was also one of the cutest things he’d ever seen. Oz’s breath stayed carefully even as James lowered him down, but out of James’ sight his shoulders worked like he wanted to arch back, his fingers locked in battle against an invisible enemy that was gaining from all sides, judging by the way his hands twisted in the cuffs. James frowned at him. Oz froze suddenly, his face all innocence.

Oh, _this_ would be fun. James’ fingers dug hard into the meat of Oz’s thighs, and he lifted Oz up again even though he hadn’t even gotten fully seated yet. Oz’s face fell for half a second, and then _he_ fell, a ragged cry shocked out of him as James just let him _drop_ like so much dead weight. James was not a small man.

“Damn, Jimmy,” Qrow said, breaking off with an uneven breath of his own as he flicked his thumbnail hard under the head of his cock, “I—gotta say, wasn’t sure you had it in you. _Fuck_.” That was definitely a point well earned.

He regretted the admission immediately. James smirked at him, satisfaction practically _dripping_ off his gaze, and then all he did was roll his hips, the motion _barely_ fucking noticeable. “Did you like that, Ozpin?” James said.

Oz’s breath shook before he answered. Oz’s _everything_ shook. “Y—” He swallowed. “Yes.”

“Hmm,” James said, and didn’t do it again. Qrow was gonna kill him.

The next _several godsdamned minutes_ were spent watching James work out the rules to this fun new game he’d just invented, called ‘how slightly do I have to roll my hips to make sure Qrow can’t even see it?’ The only metric Qrow had to work off of was the rhythm of Oz’s breath, and it was, honestly, guesswork. Maybe he wasn’t moving at all and Oz was just twitching.

“ _Really_ , Ironwood?” Was it too late to kick him out of the inner circle?

“Do you have a complaint, Qrow?” James asked sharply, and he definitely _actually_ moved his hips this time. It looked more like he was shifting his weight and _accidentally_ jostled Oz, but it was _visible_.

Oz whined softly at the tiny motion. He’d been leaning into James’ shoulder for most of this thrilling little game, face halfway buried in his neck and the expression on his face almost pained. It was hot, Qrow had to admit— _privately_ ; the quiet desperation as he sought out _any_ kind of relief and got nothing of substance.

“Yeah, actually,” Qrow said. “I get that you Atlesians hate fun and all, but _some_ of us are actually trying to have a good time here, not just prove some stupid point.”

“ _Boys_ ,” said Oz, trying for admonishment and landing far closer to a plea. There was a hint of real distress in his voice.

Qrow and James exchanged a look. “Jimmy,” Qrow pressed, “you’re _neglecting_ him.”

James glowered, and he cast his hand into the toy box beside him on the table, feeling around for something, as the other hand came up to card through Oz’s hair comfortingly. Sure, make _Qrow_ the bad guy. Dick.

The toy James pulled out was smallish, about four and a half inches long, with a base that came out in only one direction in an L shape, a little finger-sized circle of negative space at the end of the base. It had a bulbous head that cocked the same direction of the base, then thinned before a steep sloping angle brought it wider again. It was about as girthy as James, maybe a little thinner, and because Ozpin owned it, the silicone was a vibrant emerald.

“A prostate massager?”

Oz twitched. James pulled his other hand out of Oz’s hair to slather the toy in lube, then reached down between their bodies to press a slick finger in alongside his cock.

Oz’s inhale came sharp and his exhale shuddering as James perfunctorily stretched on two fingers in about as much time as it had initially taken him to get deeper than a knuckle, and Qrow rued the fact the angle of the scroll meant his view was limited more or less to the knowledge that this was something that was happening. And it sure was happening.

Gods, he wished that was his cock pressing in along James’. He squirted more body lotion into his hand.

The noises Oz was making as the head of the toy pressed in past his rim were high and breathy, coming quick and irregular as his legs shuddered and he pressed his eyes shut hard, chin curled into his own chest. Then Qrow heard a soft whirr in conjunction with Oz _jerking_ whole-body in James’ lap, his mouth opening in a silent cry as James pushed the prostate massager—the _vibrating_ prostate massager—the rest of the way in, resting in front of his cock. He brought his hands back around under Oz’s bound arms, resting them on his back. His hips remained carefully still.

“He’ll keep,” James said, leveling a challenging eyebrow at Qrow.

Fuck. _Fuck_. “You’re just gonna leave him like that?” Qrow asked, voiced strained. He hoped it sounded like a disapproving kind of strain.

James scoffed, good-naturedly now, probably because he was a cocky bastard and thought he’d won. He hadn’t won. “You’re _not_ pretending you don’t love this. I know you better than that, Qrow.”

“Oh, what, so you fuck a guy a couple dozen times and you think you know what turns him on?”

James frowned. “Yes,” he said slowly, like he was questioning if _it_ should be a question. In his lap, Oz shuddered, clenching around him, and James’ next breath shook as well. He blinked hard, the first real sign he was actually affected by his arousal the whole damn night.

Qrow jumped on it. “See, if you were actually _fucking_ him,” he said reasonably, “you could enjoy yourself.”

“I am enjoying myself.”

“Yeah, sure.” He tried to keep his skepticism out of his voice, but not very hard. “You’re not even _disheveled_ , Jimmy. There’s a difference between having a good time at a weekend brunch and having a good time _screwing_ a guy. You’ve got a sexy dude tied up in your lap who you could do _anything_ to right now, fucking anything, and shit, I can’t even imagine what he’s gotta feel like on your cock.”

“Quite nice,” James afforded.

“Damn the man with faint praise, why don’t you! ‘Quite nice’,” he mocked, scoffing. “ _Quite nice._ You’re a lost cause, Jimmy. Hey, Oz,” he called. Oz turned to look at him, unsteady. “Fuck yourself on him for me, will you?” Oz’s eyes went wide, his lips parting slightly as he stared at Qrow, who remembered suddenly why Oz hadn’t been doing that the whole time. “If you’re up for it, I mean. Don’t fuck up your leg on my account.”

Way to go, Qrow. Gold-star boyfriend material, right there.  But then Oz took a deep breath and lifted himself almost all the way off of James, his face screwed up in pain, whole body tense as a drawstring. His cock was hard, though, and stayed that way even after he lowered himself down and brought himself up again, hands fisting behind his back and legs visibly shaking. _A pain I am willing to bear,_ he’d called kneeling for James an hour ago. A pain he was getting off on, more like.

Gods, he was gorgeous.

“Ozpin…” James started, hands reaching up around Oz to get his hands under the backs of his thighs. 

“He’s a grown-up, Jimmy,” Qrow told him. “Let him do what he wants.” James paused, not quite touching Oz as he gave Qrow an uncertain look. Oz, meanwhile, took advantage of his position, bringing his bound wrists up behind him, elbows coming up nearly perpendicular at his sides, and he grabbed onto James’ forearm for leverage.

“Hey,” Qrow said sharply. “Without his help or not at all.”

Oz froze, his breath ragged as he stared at Qrow. His eyes were all pupil. Very slowly, he let go of James’ arm, lowering his hands and twisting them back to a comfortable position at rest at the small of his back. He swallowed hard, then bit back a moan as he raised himself up again, finally looking away from Qrow when he tucked his chin to his chest, blinking hard, and let himself drop back down, forcing a ragged cry out of himself and a low groan from James.

“Listen, Qrow,” James said tersely, with a measured exhale he clearly wanted to be a sigh. “I understand you have a… relationship dynamic with Ozpin, and I don’t intend to interfere. But this is not your scene, so I would be grateful if you could avoid domming him for just—” his face did something interesting for a second before he smoothed it out again “—just a _few_ minutes.”

Oz’s rhythm stuttered, a shiver running through him, and he gasped an unsteady “ _Oh_ ,” on his inhale, wide eyes flicking up to Qrow for—something. Some kind of confirmation, or for Qrow to say Jimmy was full of shit. Qrow couldn’t say. He could barely pull his own eyes away from James, whose brow was furrowing.

It’s not like Qrow wasn’t familiar with the whole dom/sub thing. He’d done it with other people; done it with Taiyang, even—and Tai’d been topping as usual, so that’d been, hah, a weird, fun time—but… this was _Oz_. Who would ever look at the man who was single-handedly trying to save the whole damn world from incomprehensible evil, the _immortal hero of legend_ , and go ‘yeah, I’d dom him’? He was—practically by definition—indomitable.

Sure, they’ve had plenty of rough sex before, and Qrow’d heard from pretty much everybody he’d ever fucked that he got pushy in the heat of the moment. But Oz had never minded; usually he went with it, good-naturedly, or at least that’s what Qrow’d assumed until just now, when he’d shivered and gasped just at James calling Qrow his dom. It was Oz. He was like that.

Qrow… was not a smart man.

Jimmy must have gotten sick of watching Qrow’s little freakout, or maybe he’d just gotten sick of the pained sounds every movement jerked out of Oz’s throat, because he reached a hand underneath Oz with an amused little shake of his head, laughter on his breath. Qrow expected him to lift Oz up, but instead James felt around for a couple seconds and then the quiet buzz of the toy got louder. Oz yelped, his whole body jerking, and his eyelids fluttered as he came untouched onto James’ stomach.

 _Fuck_ , that was hot. Qrow’s second orgasm spilled over his fingers as Oz shook, whining softly through the aftershocks with James’ hand on the back of his head. They gasped in unison, both trying to catch their breath, but where Qrow had already let his dick rest on his thigh to grab a tissue, Oz still had James and that vibrator inside him, and his breath kept hitching as he twitched in James’ arms. James reached for the toy again.

“Don’t give him a break,” Qrow managed, voice rough, a sharp wave of arousal going through him. If James turned that thing off, Qrow wouldn’t be able to hear that soft, catching whine any more.

James shot him a severe look. “Calm down,” he said, before pressing the side of the toy’s base again, and the vibrations stayed just as strong as they were but now they were _pulsing_. Oz shuddered and curled inward, and even James bit off a moan before closing his eyes and swallowing hard, visibly collecting himself. Both of James’ hands shifted, after that; the one in Oz’s hair went down to the back of his neck, thumb up underneath his jaw and pinning him to James’ shoulder. The hand under him shifted to slip his middle finger through the space provided in the base of the prostate massager, holding it in place with his first two fingers as he got the rest of his hand under Oz’s thigh and lifted him up.

With Oz pressed down to James’ chest, the angle now let Qrow get a pretty good look at Oz’s rim, worn red and stretched tight around both James and the prostate massager. Neither may have been particularly girthy, but that didn’t make them _small_.

“Do you need more lube?” James asked, and the stuff they used was thick, formulated for anal specifically, but it was still water-based, so the answer was almost definitely yes by this point. Oz shook his head in James’ grip, his eyes closed tight. Jimmy, fantastic, amazing, _sexy_ Jimmy, who Qrow deeply regretted ever insulting, didn’t argue, and he fucked Oz without a trace of apprehension, totally confident for once that Oz could handle it.

Oz’s quiet little whine turned into broken-off cries as James fucked him, almost thrashing in James’ grip from the overstimulation, and Qrow was sure a bruise in the shape of James’ fingers would form on his upper thigh. That was evidence of James’ own slipping composure, too, as sweat beaded on his forehead and he forced out his exhales like he was trying to resuscitate someone. It only took maybe two minutes before he let out a loud groan and held Oz down on his cock before he slumped back against the chair with an unsteady sigh.

“Gods,” he said quietly once he caught his breath, clicking quickly through the settings on the vibrator until it turned off. He ruffled Oz’s hair. “Sit up for me?”

Oz kissed the side of his jaw, and with a helpful push from James, sat up so James could maneuver between their legs. Oz gasped again, and a few seconds later, the prostate massager joined the old clockwork vibrator on the floor beside the armchair. James reached around Oz and unlatched the small carabiner that connected the D-rings on Oz’s cuffs. Oz rolled his stiff shoulders, his left hand coming up slowly to massage the muscle behind his shoulderblade.

James gave him a chaste kiss, then brought their foreheads together. “Good?”

Oz hummed. “ _Very_.”

“Good,” said James again, with a quiet laugh. “You were perfect, as always. Exemplary performance.”

“I do try,” Oz said lightly.

Qrow figured this was the part where Oz would pull himself off of James’ soft cock and they’d move to the bed, or maybe grab the scroll off the bookshelf and go into the bathroom, since Oz’s come was flaking on James’ chest and James had just come inside, but Oz wasn’t moving at all and James reached back into the _fucking_ toy box again.

The toy he pulled out was nothing fancy, just a medium-sized metal plug, and he put a few drops of lube on it as Oz held onto the arms of the chair, clenching around James as he slowly pulled off. They weren’t…

They _were_. James waited at the ready with the plug, his other hand right beneath Oz to catch any come that escaped on his fingers as he slid the plug in easily. He swiped the rim with the pad of a finger to ensure he’d gotten all of it.

Qrow wondered how often they did this; you learned quick, dating Oz, that he liked using toys like plugs or other wearables outside of the context of sex. He called it a tangible reminder of his partners, which was sappy and cute and maybe only 20% an excuse for the fact he just found his endless series of meetings and speaking engagements boring. Qrow’d never considered—fuckin'—trapping his come inside of Oz with one before, but he figured that was probably about as much of a _tangible reminder_ you could get. And _gods_ , it was hot. James was a fucking genius.

Speaking of. Jimmy brought his come-smeared hand up, examining it with a wry look. “I always forget,” he said to Oz, “how _messy_ this is.”

Oz didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned forward, sucking the web of skin between James’ thumb and forefinger into his mouth, twisting James’ hand with both of his own to lick into his palm. James’ breath caught in his throat, watching Oz sharply. His pupils were blown so wide his eyes looked black. Oz sucked on James’ fingers even after he’d cleaned up every trace of come, peering up at him through his lashes.

When he finally pulled back, James cleared his throat. “That works,” he said faintly, blinking a few times. “Thank you.”

Oz offered him a soft smile in return. As James collected himself, Oz started to get up stiffly, transferring his good leg to the floor and hissing as he pushed himself up with his arms braced on the sides of the chair. He stayed leaning on it after he got his bad leg down, just letting one hand go and twisting aside to let James up after him. Once he had, James offered an arm and helped Oz the few steps to the bed, scooping his legs up and getting him the rest of the way on once Oz made it to the edge and sat.

James didn’t join him yet. He bent down and gave him a long kiss that Oz melted into, before pulling away and approaching his scroll on the bookshelf. “I’m going to clean myself up,” he said to Qrow, “and make some cocoa. Keep him company while I’m gone.”

Then he tossed the scroll in Oz’s lap and the only thing Qrow could see was Oz’s amused upside-down face. His face flipped upright as Oz picked up the scroll himself and righted it, giving Qrow a warm smile.

“Hey,” Qrow said. “That was, uh. That was really good.” Now who was damning him with faint praise?

“I think it went very well,” Oz agreed serenely. “I really must thank you and James again for thinking of having these get-togethers.”

Qrow scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, I mean, it just made sense, you know? We were all doing each other separately. Why not do each other together, too?” Part of him was thrilled Oz mentioned it, but how was he supposed to respond to that when what had happened was ‘troubleshooting Ozpin’s PTSD’ turned into ‘hey, do you fantasize about this too?’ _We sexted each other about your trauma for six months, you’re welcome._

He fished around for another topic as he picked up his scroll and wandered over to the little kitchenette at the front of the hotel room. He checked the water level in the kettle and turned it on. “I was, uh, assigning us point values,” he admitted.

“Who won?” asked Oz.

“I lost track. So, arguably, you.”

“How did that old fable go again,” Oz mused, like he hadn’t probably written it himself centuries ago, “about the young boy so focused on proving himself a better fighter than his rival, neither of them noticed the Grimm attracted to their village by their enmity until it was too late?”

Qrow eyed him, wondering if that was meant as a pointed comment, or if he was just deflecting the compliment with whatever fairy tale he could think of first. “Yeah, that sounds like the entire fable right there.” Still, in case: “You trying to tell us off? Because, I’m gonna be honest with you, Jimmy and me? The competition’s kinda part of the package.”

Oz looked slightly surprised at the question, and then apologetic. “No, of course not. Perhaps that was a poor choice of story on my part. Competition can also, of course, inspire us to continual improvement. And, I admit, can inspire us to a… greater degree of creativity in our recreation, that I appreciate.”

Qrow was pretty sure that was Oz-speak for _I like it when you fight over me_. “Hah,” he said, fishing a beaten up packet of hot chocolate out of his pocket as the kettle started to boil; the last of the box Oz had given him last month. “That ‘greater degree of creativity’ sure did a number on you, though. How bad’s that leg of yours gonna be tomorrow?”

Oz gave a lighthearted chuckle. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll be attending the Four Kingdoms Harmony Awards as their keynote speaker, and will most likely be standing for several hours. I expect it won’t be thanking me. That said, I cannot bring myself to regret anything about tonight.” As he said that, he shifted to a more comfortable position, biting his lip, and Qrow suddenly remembered the plug inside of him. He poured hot water onto the back of his hand instead of into his thermos.

“ _Fuck_.”

“Oh, no,” said Oz, sitting up like he could do something about a minor burn from a continent away. “Are you all right?”

James made his way back over, too, placing a mug of cocoa next to Oz on the bedside table. “Is something wrong?”

“He burned himself,” Oz said, still concerned.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Qrow said. He inspected his hand, then engaged his aura and watched as the red mark faded away as fast as it had appeared. He held the hand up to the scroll’s camera. “Here, see?”

Oz reached for his mug of hot chocolate, apparently accepting this. James climbed into bed beside him and took the scroll back so Oz could hold his mug with both hands—still wearing the leather cuffs around his wrists—as he curled into him.

Qrow kept his aura up as he poured the rest of the hot water into his thermos, just in case, but he managed to get it mixed and done without even a fumble. Thank fuck.

He settled himself on his own bed with his thermos. This part of the night was more familiar; they may not have all been fucking for long, but they’d had more than one long distance debriefing turned late night chat since James’ induction into the inner circle. They were… nice. There was something uniquely relaxing about having people ask to share your company from far enough away that your semblance couldn’t possibly touch them.

James wrapped one arm around Oz as Oz’s eyes went half-lidded, relaxing into the touch.

“So,” James said casually into the comfortable silence. “You two should probably talk about that dominant-submissive dynamic you apparently didn’t realize you have.”

Qrow felt heat rise in his face and turned to rummage through travel bag _way_ too quickly to be casual. Smooth, Qrow. There was a long pause from the other side of the scroll that was exactly the length of one of Oz’s sips of cocoa. “Right,” Oz said, as though James had reminded him about a mildly interesting bit of trivia, “that.”

Yeah. That.


End file.
